An Effiecient Breed of People
by EnchanteMoron
Summary: The battle with Father has been won, and the world is being rebuilt around them. Hawkeye and Mustang spend their days recuperating in the military hospital ward as Mustang drills himself on Ishvalan policies and culture while adjusting to life without his eyes. In the dead of night, Roy and Riza share a moment of intimacy. Set the evening before Dr. Marcoh appears to them.


"How are your injuries?"

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye had all but fallen asleep when the Colonel spoke up. She blinked her eyes open and let them adjust to the dark hospital room. "I thought you were asleep, sir." she said flatly. "Breda and Fuery will no doubt be in early again tomorrow, you need rest."

"I asked you a question." came his voice from the bed parallel to her own.

Hawkeye let out a long sigh. "I'm fine. I've been free to go for week now, sir."

Silence followed, such silence she could barely hear him breathing. For a minute, she thought he might have fallen asleep, but as though on cue, Mustang piped up. "You don't have to babysit me, Lieutenant."

"I'm not here to babysit you." she said, her voice measured, even. Their war was won, but suffice it to say old habits die hard.

After a similar silence, in voice trembling with an emotion she couldn't quite place, he responded with a hoarse "Why?"

She considered a brief monologue about not being out of danger yet, about the chance of a revenge plot. The handful of half-truths didn't seem worth mentioning. "I told you I'd follow you into hell, Colonel. I've already done that. Now I'm following you back out."

The Colonel sat up in his hospital bed, and she mirrored him. He sat entirely motionless for a few minutes, his broken eyes staring down at his sheets but seeing nothing. It felt as though the oxygen had been vacuumed from the room, but it didn't bother her. If he needed, she'd wait with him in dead silence for days on end.

She considered his need to think things over, and her brow furrowed. "Sir, if you want me to leave, you need only give the command." she said.

"No," he responded quietly. "I don't need you to leave. In fact," he paused, lifting his head a bit. "You said you were able to go?"

"Yes."

The Colonel lowered his head again. Even in the dark, Hawkeye recognized the stubborn set of his jaw. "Could you…come here?" he said in a low, solemn voice.

Hawkeye blinked at him in surprise. That was the last thing she'd been expecting to hear him say now, but, all the same, obliged. "Of course." She stood and went to his side, and as she did, Mustang asked her to sit, and again she did so.

"Sir?" she asked, peering at him and, with a small, almost undetectable gasp, realized that it was raining again, only this time Roy did not have to tell her himself. "Sir…" she trailed off, unable to think of a single comforting thing to say. It occurred to her that "sir" might not be such a comforting thing to hear as it was.

Mustang wasn't one to cry as it was, and when he did it was silently. This was no exception. Hawkeye could only just hear the uneven gasps of his breath, only just see the slight tremble to his shoulders.

He leaned his eyes into one hand, and with his left gripped up a fistful of sheets so tightly his knuckles went white. She remembered the wounds on his palms from Bradley's swords and winced a bit.

"The night before the Promised Day" he choked out in rough, tense voice. "I should have…looked at you more." he growled.

Hawkeye stared at her superior in a mix of confusion and surprise. Their shared hour of intimacy hadn't been so much as mentioned since it happened, and she had assumed it would remain unmentioned. She considered the small, valuable portion of time Fuery and Breda had given them to themselves. For all that she valued Mustang, the hour alone in the abandoned tunnel was far from ideal for either of them, but precious all the same. And for all the time that they were together, Mustang refused to let their eye contact wander.

The memory washed over her in a wave of warmth across her breastbone, and Riza shook her head at him in confusion. "Sir, you didn't take yours eyes off of—"

"I blinked, didn't I?" he barked, almost a command.

Hawkeye deflated some. She felt her own tears welling up in her eyes, but refused to let him on. She quickly realized this wouldn't be one of their more rational conversations. She bowed her head. "Yes, sir. I suppose you did."

They sat in silence once more. Where before the world seemed void of air, suddenly the silence was thick with things unsaid. Things that didn't need to be said. Part of the beauty of their relationship, she supposed. They didn't always need the words themselves. Too efficient a breed of people.

Hawkeye looked back up to him. He wasn't crying anymore, just breathing in and out slowly.

She considered their time together again, for the millionth time remembered the warmth and longing in his eyes, for the millionth time remembered his demeanor and embrace as their stoic formalities were shed. He had cast off his guard and come to her. She supposed it was her turn.

With a breath, Hawkeye pulled her knee up and onto his bed between his legs, and pulled herself up to lay across his chest, the ridge of her brow resting against his jaw. As she moved she felt him tense and relax in turn. After a moment of hesitation, he brought his arms around her and squeezed tightly.

"You'd make love to a blind man?" he whispered.

And she, in her most monotone, strict voice, replied "Don't be ridiculous, Colonel.". He frowned for a moment, and she continued. "Your nurse would have me expelled from the hospital."

Mustang grinned and let out a laugh, his real laugh, and rested his head upon her own. She felt his body relax and unwind. "Yeah, I suppose she would."

For a moment Hawkeye felt a pang of regret about her actions, considered how she might get back to her own bed if she could, or, if not, what may happen come morning. A small, almost inaudible noise from the Colonel's throat pushed all these worries back, though. Somewhere between a hum and a sigh, it sounded more peaceful a noise than she had since heard from her superior. She stole a glance up at this face to find him already drifting off to sleep, looking more relaxed and content than she'd seen him for months.

She looked on him a few moments more before closing her eyes and relaxing herself. Lying over the covers, she was cold everywhere the Colonel was not, and smiled to herself at the gross symbolism of it all.

And, with that thought in her mind, Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye fell asleep smiling in the warm arms of the Flame Alchemist.


End file.
